


Through Low Light and Trees

by toucanpie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Aftermath of sex pollen, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent for flashbacks, Missions Gone Wrong, Oblivious Mutual Pining, Tony Stark Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23963866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toucanpie/pseuds/toucanpie
Summary: A mission in space resulted in Peter getting exposed to an alien sex pollen. He has good memories of what happened but he's less certain how Tony feels about it.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 179
Collections: Id Pro Quo 2020





	Through Low Light and Trees

"I'm so sorry, Tony," Peter said, again, cringing as the ship began to judder into life.

They were finally lifting off the planet surface, their stolen ride mostly operational again. It felt good to be heading for home, even if it did leave more time to think about everything that had gone before. Whether he'd been weird or said anything too revealing. Whether Tony meant it when he said it was all okay. Whether there was ever going to be a way of scrubbing the memory of mistakenly hitting Tony in the head halfway through.

"If you want to put me down on the nearest planet, I understand."

Tony chuckled tiredly. With his back to Peter there was no guessing at his facial expression, but his hands had gone still on the control panel, resting palms down like he was leaning on them. 

"We're both going home, Pete, no drop offs, no detours. I don't know about you, but I definitely need a cheeseburger."

Finally Tony looked round at him. He looked pale and wiped out, the eerie blue lights of the panel making deep shadows beneath his eyes. It had taken them three hours to get the busted ship working again and it had all been by hand, crouching in tiny access spaces to reach the fried wiring and then climbing up onto the roof to replace a damaged panel. They both had their share of scrapes as a result, but Tony was worse off. It didn't look like he was still bleeding anywhere now, but it was hard to tell what was blood and what was remnants of the crimson pollen still smeared over their clothes.

"Tony -" he started, feeling a huge lump rise up in his throat. He wanted to talk about it but at the same time the idea made him nervous. He wasn't sure he could make himself forget what it felt like to pull Tony's shirt off, to touch the bridge of his nose where he had a tiny scar. 

He met Tony's eyes and let the memory drop. He could hear their breathing fall in time, soft and regular. It felt weirdly intimate to have a moment to just watch each other. He wasn't sure they'd even had the time to look each other in the face properly since they'd rolled apart in the grass and awkwardly got dressed. Part of Peter wanted to go back to that moment, to lie there with Tony for a few minutes longer and to find words to say. But he didn't have them then and he doesn't have them now.

"Hey," Tony said quietly. "Do me a favour and sit before you fall?"

Peter gave in to his tired muscles and sat down exactly where he was. It was probably the least he could do after putting Tony through - well, everything his body had demanded.

Tony gave him a grateful smile and then pointed meaningfully at the bag with what supplies they had. Peter knew that was a hint to put something on his grazes, maybe even to clean up more privately, but he ignored it. Tony was worse off than him and didn't get the same free ride when it came to healing, so Peter was saving the medical stuff for him whether he liked it or not.

  


* * *

  


"I really am sorry about your face," he said, when Tony had turned back to the panel. "I swear I've done it before and that never happened."

"Parker, I'm fine," Tony said, and he sounded like he could be smiling again. "I just need to know you're down there safe and sound until I work out whether this thing even has an autopilot. Then we can talk. Or maybe I'll talk and you can not apologise anymore, how's that?"

"The button on the left," Peter said, pointing. "You see how the symbol looks kind of circle-ly?" Something about it reminded him of the Chitauri designs he'd seen back home. "What if it's that one?"

"Huh," Tony said and then, with an alarming show of faith in Peter's random hunches, he pushed it.

Something made a noise and the ship surged forward, then settled. Tony was rocked into the control panel but he steadied himself and then carefully let go of the lever thing he'd been holding in place. Nothing exploded horribly, which was nice.

"I don't want to know how you knew that," Tony said, taking a step back. He took another tentative step away and then turned to face Peter again. Closer up, Peter could see the streak of dried blood under his nose and some running from a cut on his ear, but Peter hadn't been responsible for those ones at least, which was maybe something.

"Maybe you should sit down too?"

Tony didn't even answer before leaning down and then almost crashing to the floor beside him.

"We're removing that planet from the codex," he said. "Or putting a big red X next to it, at least. I'm writing it in the Avengers handbook."

"Okay," Peter said. He almost smiled before he remembered that 90% of that washed out look on Tony's face was his fault. Maybe even the other 10% too, because he'd been the one who'd argued against it being an Iron Man solo mission.

The worst part was that he still couldn't stop thinking about it. Tony reaching for him through the haze of red and how his mind had stopped racing a mile a minute, just like that. He has a feeling there might have been embarrassing clinging too, before he'd realised the pollen wasn't clogging his lungs like he'd first thought. He hadn't really put the rest of it together until Tony had let him wrap his legs around his waist and carried him to a patch of soft grass. It was only when he was lying down in it, feeling hot, that he realised he'd been pressing his face to Tony's skin and mumbling useless nonsense. Then Tony had stroked his hot cheeks, told him he was going to be okay and Peter had had a confusing overwhelming orgasm with his ankles locked behind Tony's back. He kind of remembers crying when Tony tried to rearrange them, wanting to let him go at the same time as knowing he couldn't, wouldn't.

It kind of made a mockery of his five step plan to persuade Tony he was just the sort of smart and responsible boyfriend he needed. All he had now was a suit that had multiple rips in, still damp along his back with cooling sweat, and the knowledge of how embarrassingly easy he apparently was. Or how stupid he was to stumble into a flower field they'd never seen the like of before and let it get inside his system.

"You okay?" Tony said. He was rubbing at his forehead with his fingers and grimacing at the dusty grime that came off. "You hurting anywhere?"

Peter was sore inside in a way that wasn't completely unpleasant, but he wasn't about to admit that.

"Um fine, are you?"

"Good," Tony said, which was clearly a big lie.

Peter wanted to call him on it, but yet again couldn't find the right words. He went back to staring at the other side of the ship. He didn't know whether it was better to try and dig deeper into his memories or to try and pretend the whole thing hadn't happened.

"I don't think you should let me be an Avenger anymore," he said hollowly.

In the silence that followed, it felt right. He'd betrayed Tony, he'd put him in a bad situation because he hadn't been thinking again. He didn't deserve to wear the suit, let alone have the title or the respect of everyone else on the team.

Tony didn't say anything immediately, but one of his hands reached out and he put it over Peter's.

Peter felt his eyes sting and wiped at them angrily. "You really shouldn't, okay?"

"I need you to make me a promise," Tony said, squeezing Peter's hand gently.

Peter nodded, even though he couldn't quite bring himself to turn and look at Tony.

"To think about that time in New York, when Thor's hair got caught -"

A laugh choked its way out of Peter's throat.

"Don't -"

"I need you to promise to think about that and then in a minute, when I get off the floor and make it to our bag, you're going to take the blanket with no protesting-"

"Tony -"

"Nuh uh," Tony squeezed his hand again, just as gently. "No protesting, Mr Parker. And then you're going to let me wrap it around you and get some sleep, because you did nothing wrong and we'll talk about the rest in the morning."

The lump in Peter's throat was back, but he felt better, even as tears still threatened to sneak out the corners of his eyes. Something in his head told him he shouldn't be letting Tony take away the guilt, but it was difficult to fight the feeling of relief.

"And you can have a break from the team if you like, sure, but nobody's kicking you out the Avengers."

Tony started to stand up and Peter wanted to tell him to stay down, that he'd go, but then he remembered that he was trying to do what Tony asked. That it was the least he could do, after everything.

"Me, on the other hand -" Tony trailed off as he stumbled over to the bag and began looking through it.

Peter gave up on being a good person who followed orders and went to help.

"I said sit," Tony said, but he didn't look mad. If anything he looked like he might even somehow still be fond of Peter.

"You're injured," Peter protested, taking over reaching into the bag. As well as all the cuts, Tony looked like he'd hurt his back, probably because he'd had to carry Peter and then - do other things to him too. He looked down and away from Tony at that thought and dug deeper into the bag, feeling his fingers brush fabric.

"Got it," he said, pulling the blanket out.

It wasn't the thickest blanket, kind of the opposite really, but when they shook it out, it wasn't as small as it looked all folded up.

"You get down and we'll double it over you," Tony said.

"Or you could get down and I'll put it over you," Peter said.

"Peter, you have a hole the size of Alaska on the back of your suit. And don't try and pretend you don't, because I know. I helped put it there."

Peter flushed, the memory of trying to get his own suit off fast enough flashing vividly to the front of his mind. Tony had helped, much more carefully than Peter had been able to. And then he'd skated his fingers just as carefully over the skin that was underneath the suit. And then he'd said nice things and kissed Peter, gently at first, then more passionately, and then -

Peter pushed those thoughts down. Even though he tried to make himself stop, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe Tony had wanted to do some of it. Because it wasn't like he hadn't been flirting. It wasn't like he hadn't been trying to tell Tony how available he was, free of college and commitments. Finally ready to be there full time for the team and for Tony too, if he wanted.

"You have a head injury," he pointed out stubbornly. "And um, don't pretend you don't, because I know. I gave it to you."

The corner of Tony's mouth twitched and somehow that made Peter feel stronger.

"I'd feel better if we shared," he said firmly. He thought he was saying it so that he could roll out and wrap it double over Tony once he fell asleep, but the moment it came out, he realised that wasn't true. He didn't want to sleep on the cold floor alone any more than he wanted Tony to.

"Please?" he added, quietly.

Tony looked at him and then he held out his hands, making a gimme gesture. Peter obediently handed over the blanket.

"Over by the console," Tony said. "Probably be warmer and if one of us needs to steer, it's not too far to go."

Peter nodded and walked backwards until his legs hit the metal of the control panel. Then he awkwardly sunk down like before to sit with his knees pulled up to his chest and his back against metal. Tony sat back down next to him, shaking the cover out over their legs.

  


* * *

  


The pollen field swum up in Peter's dream, the scene both hazy and pinpoint clear.

He felt it as his legs decided to go weak, felt himself sinking to his knees, patting uselessly at the ground around him for something.

Flecks of red clouded the outside of his mask, distorting his vision.

"Karen?" He asked, feeling dizzy. "Can we do something?"

"Iron Man is inbound," Karen had reported and then he'd been scooped up by strong metal hands and felt air rush past as they took off.

"We are lifting out of the pollen cloud," Karen said. Then: "setting down at a safe distance".

Then he was rolled onto grass and heard Tony's voice, felt his mask being pulled off. He could see Tony fine, clearer without the mask, but something still felt blurry.

"Friday, can we have some vitals?" Tony had said. "And an analysis of this red stuff, pronto."

"Sorry," Peter had said. Part of him itched to get up and help, to go back and get a sample, deliver a beat down to the corn field or something, but his body was tired and wanted to stay put.

Tony's hands had touched his face briefly, the back of his hands pressing against Peter's cheeks.

"You're burning up there Pete, you feel okay?"

It all sped up after that. A vivid moment of reaching for the emblem to pop his suit loose and then clawing at the neckline, feeling so hot that his skin seemed to prickle with it. The only thing that had felt bearable was the gentle coolness of Tony's hands on him.

He remembered saying Tony's name, arching as something like static travelled all the way through his body, an aching ripple that fried his nerves from his head right down to the ends of his toes. 

Anywhere Tony had touched him made him shiver and it just kept building. His senses zoned in and out, one minute picking up the soft sounds of Tony's breathing, the next a feeling of being underwater with a tide washing over him, drowning everything but a deep writhing desire. Then Tony's fingers had moved to his forehead and he was back to being hypersensitive again, able to feel what felt like each millisecond of the touch, every tiny cell that Tony touched.

He'd heard FRIDAY's voice saying something mechanical and harsh, then Tony going quiet.

"What's happening?" he'd said, reaching out. He'd known Tony was there but he wasn't close enough, and a fear had struck him cold. That Tony was about to leave. That Peter would die alone in that field, lonely and hurting.

"Okay," Tony had said, his hands back on Peter's skin. "Not how I wanted us to do this, but -"

Tony had cradled his head, turning it carefully towards him, his face becoming Peter's sole focus.

Then Peter's mind recalled nothing but the gentle feel of Tony's mouth against his. Of being very carefully taken completely apart and pieced back together in a way that he was never going to forget. He remembered clumsily clambering into Tony's lap and admitting things that weren't meant to be said out loud, spilling all his secrets into Tony's skin. He remembered Tony being different after that. He'd been kissed fiercely, Tony had sucked marks into his neck, had tugged Peter's earlobe between his teeth, had whispered things that Peter wished he could remember exactly -

  


* * *

  


Peter woke up warm, almost stiflingly so. He was lying on the floor and Tony was tucked behind him, their legs touching beneath the blanket. He cautiously moved one arm and when Tony didn't stir, started a slow roll over onto his other side so he could check in on Tony while he was still asleep.

Tony opened one eye just as he'd finished the manoeuvre.

"Sorry, morning," Peter said croakily. "I mean, sorry if I woke you up, not sorry it's morning."

"I'm sorry it's morning," Tony said, reclosing his eye. "Or whatever passes for morning out here."

He still looked tired, pale in the feeble light coming from the console. His eyebrow looked like it was starting to scab though, which was good. Peter felt weirdly protective about that. Not just because that was the one that was his fault, but because he always felt protective about everyone on the team who didn't have healing powers. He never wanted to forget in the wrong moment that not everyone lost their bruises overnight. Sometimes the thought of it kept him up at night, the idea of someone in the team taking a bullet or a knife to protect him when it would probably be better to let him take it and -

"You okay?" Tony said, his eyes still closed, like he could somehow tell Peter's thoughts were spiralling out of control.

Peter blinked, realising his hand was outstretched towards Tony's face, like he'd been planning to touch him. He pulled it back abruptly and then remembered belatedly how stupid that was when they'd done a lot more intimate things than that.

He reached back out slowly.

"Pete?" Tony said, just as Peter's fingers brushed his cheek.

They both went still.

"You're really pale," Peter said, holding very still, watching Tony's chest rise and fall beneath the blanket as he breathed.

"I guess we skipped a few meals, huh?"

"I guess," Peter agreed, daring to move his fingers a little. He told himself he was just checking Tony wasn't cold or clammy, or showing signs of a concussion.

"I should've woken you up in the night," he said, thinking out loud.

"That sounds terrible," Tony said, holding perfectly still so Peter's fingers could carry on exploring his face. "I'm glad you didn't."

Peter smiled, then had to bite his lip to stop a laugh. It suddenly seemed unreal, all of it. Landing on an alien planet, breathing in some strange toxin, sleeping with Tony in the middle of a field -

Tony opened one eye again. He didn't say anything but after a moment of just looking at Peter, he gave a tiny smile.

"We're okay, right?" Peter said, suddenly unable to think of anything else.

"We're okay," Tony confirmed, not looking away.

"Was it awful?"

"It was fine," Tony said.

"Really bad?"

"Nope."

"You hated it."

Tony shook his head and pulled himself up into a sitting position with a wince.

"I'm sorry if I said anything embarrassing," Peter said, following him up. "Or did anything embarrassing."

His body wasn't quite normal, he knew that. He was sensitive and weirdly bendy and normally he didn't mind either part, but it wouldn't be the first time someone had found it too much in a bedroom kind of way.

"You weren't," Tony said.

"I should've realised it wasn't just a cool flower field."

"You're an explorer, that's okay."

"It just looked so nice -"

It had been beautiful. The red drifting lightly on the wind, like a hundred tiny birds dancing in the air. Then the gust carrying it had changed direction and the sheets of pollen had come floating towards him and he'd taken a step back, but it was already tickling his fingertips, his nose -

"It did," Tony said, reaching out to touch his elbow softly.

\- Tony had been out of the way with his helmet flipping closed the moment Peter had made a strange noise. Peter had heard it, heard the clang as the faceplate slid into place, and it had given him a sinking feeling that had only gotten worse when he'd realised his hands were coated in the stuff. He'd quickly pulled down his mask but his tongue had already tasted fuzzy, sweet -

"Did I ruin everything?"

Tony's hand squeezed his arm gently. "You didn't ruin anything."

Peter swallowed, wetting his lips, trying to find courage for the next bit.

"You don't have to lie if it wasn't okay. I can take it."

"Pete." Tony's hand moved up to cup Peter's face and turn it towards him. "We're fine. It was fine. And anyone who gets to do those things with you - now or in the future - is a privileged person, okay?"

Peter's heart suddenly felt a little lighter. "So - there were nice bits?"

"There were nice bits."

"Oh." Peter felt himself start to flush. "I mean, I know you probably didn't want to do it at all, but - I'm glad?"

Tony smiled even if it still didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm just sorry you were stuck with me, kid."

"Oh," Peter said, because that was wrong in a million ways. "I'm not."

It almost hurt to make himself watch Tony's face after he said it, but he did it. Tony was staring at him like he'd grown a second head, but his cheeks looked pink, like something Peter had said might've put some life into him.

Peter took strength from it and carried on. "Some of it has sort of blurred together but - I remember most of it. I remember what it felt like to have you -" he flushed but pushed through "- inside me and -"

"Pete, you don't have to -"

It came back to him in a rush again, the torturously slow build of pleasure that had come with having Tony everywhere, of being wrapped up in him. How overwhelming good it had felt and how well they had fitted together.

"- and I liked it," he finished. "Maybe I'm not supposed to say that, but - but anybody who does that with you is pretty privileged too."

Tony's gaze didn't shift even for a minute and then his hand came up to stroke Peter's cheek in a way that made Peter want to almost cry with relief.

"You said some things while you were out of it," Tony said, watching him carefully. "At the time I didn't question it because my brain wasn't working the way it ought to have been, Pete. And I'm so beyond sorry for that."

"Please don't be sorry," Peter said, his mind a sudden jumble of thoughts.

"The moment it was out of your system I wasn't sure if it was you saying those things or if you were under the influence of that stuff or -"

"That was me," Peter said.

Tony's shoulders sagged with what looked like relief. 

"Except that bit where I hit you in the face," Peter added. "I'd really like it if we could pretend that part wasn't me."

Tony laughed, his mouth crinkling at the corners in a way Peter knew inside out. 

"Done," he said.

  


* * *

  


It was a million times easier after that when Peter reached out for the first aid kit tucked at the bottom of their bag. 

"You hurting somewhere?" Tony asked, watching him unzip the kit and shuffle its contents around.

"No," Peter said. "But you're letting me fix your face now."

He was ready to justify it, ready with words to make Tony allow it, but Tony didn't fight him. Not when he dug out the little packets of wipes and the roll of sticking plaster and not when he crouched down next to Tony and tilted his head carefully up. Tony watched him as he moved, silent and unjudging even when Peter's hands faltered briefly. 

Peter took his time wiping the dried blood from Tony's eyebrow, doing what he could do make it right in the spot where his own watch had cut Tony's skin. Every time he pulled back to check Tony's expression, he found Tony watching him back, his face relaxed but his gaze intent, making Peter's heart beat fast. 

When he got to the deeper cut on Tony's ear, Tony jostled him gently.

"Not made of china, I promise."

"Good to hear," Peter said, swallowing. Then he gently but firmly put Tony's head where he wanted it to get the best angle on the cut. "Neither am I."

Tony went silent again after that, though Peter could feel eyes on him when he wiped away the blood under Tony's nose. None of it was fresh, which was good, and it didn't look like it was broken. Tony didn't protest or flinch when he felt his way up the bridge lightly to check. He even stayed still and silent while Peter gathered up the used wipes and forced them back into one of their packages.

It was only when everything was away, that Tony cleared his throat.

"Do I pass muster now?"

The way his voice sounded drew Peter's attention, a little hoarse and raspy. Like he'd run his voicebox ragged or only just woken up.

"Yes," Peter said, no longer quite sure where to look.

He wanted to go back to touching Tony's face, to checking it was all okay with his own hands and fixing the bits that weren't. He didn't want to go back to sitting beside Tony, only able to see half of him.

"You should stretch out your legs," he said, flushing at how it came out almost commanding. "Let the circulation get flowing."

To his surprise, Tony obediently unfolded his legs and stretched them out in front of him.

"Show me your hands?" Peter asked, thinking of one place where he hadn't had a chance to check Tony over.

Tony raised them up without question and placed them in Peter's palms. Peter had to take a moment to feel the weight of them, to take in the trust inherent in Tony giving them to him like that, and then he carefully turned them over to inspect them. Under the guise of brushing away dirt, he ran his fingers across Tony's palms, checking for anything that could hurt. At the base of Tony's fingers, the skin was a little rougher with calluses. He rubbed them gently, imagining how they would build up from working on a suit for hours at a time, on a ship for hours at a time, on a home-made arc reactor -

He turned Tony's hands back over and traced the one finger that had a graze on the side, then another with a swollen knuckle. They would both be fine, but he made mental note of them for later, when they might have ice or something to wash off with.

He carefully placed Tony's hands back down on his legs, staring at them for a moment before he dared to look back up at Tony's face.

"Peter," Tony said. "Peter Parker, come here."

Peter did the next bit on instinct, reaching out for Tony's face again, but this time just to hold between his hands. Tony's hands came up for him too, and drew him in until they were sharing the same air.

"Say something if this isn't okay, okay?" Peter said.

"I don't think you could do anything that wouldn't be okay," Tony replied, his voice hoarse like before.

Peter stopped holding back and let himself lean in. Then Tony's mouth was on his, hot and soft, making him feel almost dizzy all over again. 

Peter kissed back with everything he didn't know how to say - sorry, and I wanted it I swear, and please can we do it again - a heady overabundance of feeling that threatened to take him over.

"Everything I said was true," he said, when Tony let him come up for air. He hadn't planned to admit it in a field a million miles from Earth, but if his prize was Tony, he'd own every embarrassing detail.

"Okay," Tony said, coaxing him even closer. "Now make me forget I'm hurting in three places again, please."

Peter didn't expect the intensity of the angry rush those words brought up through his body. The idea that Tony was hurting made him want to break something. He leaned in and kissed Tony again, probably a fraction too hard, then nonsensically bit at his bottom lip.

Tony gasped and then his whole body seemed to be hauling Peter in closer, pulling their bodies together.

"Sorry," Peter said, ashamed and aroused and not sure which one was the right response.

"Not sorry," Tony said roughly. "Do it again, c'mon Pete, make me forget my own name."

  


* * *

  


By the time the console started beeping at them in a way that seemed significant, Tony was dozing against Peter's shoulder and Peter was happily replaying the last half hour in his head. 

It was harder to ignore the noise when light spilled through the windows above them from what had to be another ship. As they both startled and stirred amidst the brightness, a voice that sounded a lot like Peter Quill's came bursting out the console.

"I think we might be being rescued," he said, gently nudging Tony.

"About time," Tony said back.

It was kind of rude, Peter thought, as they sat there absently smiling at each other, to ignore their helpful rescuers. But it had been a long 48 hours, so he guessed the Guardians could cut them some slack.

"Wanna share a shower when we get onboard?" he asked.

"Yes, actually, I would," Tony said and Peter's heart sung.


End file.
